This time, when Harry woke, he knew immediately where he was and what had happened. He was still on Snape's couch, and they had talked well into the night. At first, Snape had spent a long time explaining about 'the Dark Lord', and what made Harry different, but they had eventually just devolved to talking about the war in general. Snape had, at one point very early this morning, begun talking about some of the things he'd witnessed and been forced to do as a spy. He'd asked if being an unwilling participant, under the threat of death if he disobeyed, was the same as the Death Eaters who'd volunteered. They had both been feeling very raw and vulnerable by that point, and very tired, so Harry had answered with a thoughtless kiss in gratitude.

To Snape's credit, he hadn't jerked away, or ordered Harry from his rooms. Rather, he'd stiffened remarkably and explained that, while he was flattered, that sort of relationship would never happen between them. For Harry's part, he'd laughed at the awkward response and explained that he didn't really know why he'd done it, but had no desire for anything of that sort to happen again. He was actually pretty sure he'd done it because he'd never learned how to express the level of gratitude he'd felt in that moment when Snape had proven that, finally, someone understood. As far as Harry was concerned, though, the small contact had meant nothing; it had been awkward, and more than a little ridiculous, and he prayed he never did something that impulsive again. He could admit, if only to himself, that the man had changed in his eyes last night, but it didn't alter, or erase, the last six years of verbal torture, and certainly didn't make him kissable.

"Albus, I haven't done anything I didn't deem necessary."

Harry realized Snape must be on a fire-call with the Headmaster. A small part of him wondered what had happened after he'd fallen asleep on the man's shoulder, and if he should be concerned that they'd been discovered in that position. He assumed not, or they'd have both been woken under much different circumstances. He sat up and began rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"He spent the night on my couch, Albus, you need not concern yourself…I realize I should never have brought him into my quarters, but if I hadn't I might never have discovered that he has some neurotic notion that he's becoming the next Dark Lord!"

Harry smirked. Snape had actually used the exact same words the night before. Without looking at the man kneeling on the other side of the low coffee table, Harry set about slipping his shoes onto his feet. A quick glance at Snape's clock told him that he'd missed breakfast and that classes started in ten minutes. So, he'd managed at least another three hours of unbroken sleep. Good-on, if he kept this up, he might start looking a little less like a boxer on his last legs.

"Albus, you can trust that I have done nothing improprietous. I was up for more than half the night with the idiot boy and his foolish delusions!" Harry winced…there was the harsh Snape he was used to. "I do not care what you tell his friends, Headmaster, they are not my problem! You asked that I glean what was afflicting your Golden Boy and I have done my duty. Perhaps, now that you know, you can keep him out of my hair altogether so that I can use my nights to sleep, rather than pampering his worldview!"

The 'Golden Boy' in question stood from the couch once he'd done up his shoes. "You can tell my friends that I was in the Infirmary all night because I felt sick after my detention." He said neutrally. He smirked slightly with satisfaction when he saw Snape's back tense minutely. "It'll explain my absence, both last night and this morning. Madame Pomfrey has safeguarded me once already this term, so it's a ready-enough excuse."

Snape didn't turn or respond in any way. When he began relaying Harry's words through the fire, Harry realized he would get no apology and he turned to leave. He hadn't really expected one; as he'd thought before, one night didn't change six years of mutual loathing. There was a hook for robes beside one door to the right of the living space, and Harry went through it into the man's office. His dumb luck triumphed when he walked into the empty corridor beyond. Thank Merlin, the 7th Year Potions students hadn't begun gathering outside the classroom yet. Unfortunately, his luck didn't hold, and he very nearly ran bodily into Hermione and Dean on the stairs leading out of the dungeons.

"Harry!" Hermione squealed with relief, pulling him into a hug that he immediately pulled free of. "I was so worried when you didn't come back to the common room last night. I tried asking McGonagall, but she wouldn't say anything, only told me that you were safely within the castle. When you still weren't there this morning, I asked Dumbledore at breakfast and he only told me the same."

"I-I'm okay, 'Mione, really," Harry said uncomfortably. "I spent the night in the Hospital Wing, because I got a little sick after my detention with Snape. Madame Pomfrey said it was thanks to exhaustion, and gave me some Dreamless Sleep. It's basically a narcotic, though, so she had to keep me under observation."

Hermione rubbed his arm, and he moved uncomfortably away from the touch. "Well, I'm glad you're alright…and you do seem to have some of your old color back," She commented, studying him with sad eyes. "Is it still those crazy dreams?"

Harry nodded, but before he could respond aloud, Dean interrupted them. "Hang on, Harry. If you were in the Infirmary, why were you coming from the dungeons? You aren't in NEWT Potions, and if you were you'd be going the other way."

The Wizarding Savior shrugged. "No, uh, Madame Pomfrey sent me down here for a potion. I was just headed back up to Gryffindor to change, and finish my homework, since this is my free period."

For a breathless moment, it seemed as though his friends wouldn't believe him, but they both shrugged and nodded.

"Makes sense," Dean said, grinning. "Snape's a bear in the mornings, isn't he? I hate having our class so early."

Harry resisted the urge to shoot a sour look over his shoulder at the dungeons below. "He always seems like a complete and utter git to me, so I didn't really notice a difference," He said indifferently. "Makes me glad I flunked out of NEWT Potions."

Hermione scowled. "You didn't flunk, Harry, Professor Snape just has his standards set too high. Any other teacher would have taken you. Have you thought any yet about what you're going to do, since you can't be an Auror? I know that this summer you still weren't sure."

"I still might be," Harry argued. "Ron and I found a clause in the bi-laws this last weekend. At the end of the year, we're supposed to sign a list of the NEWTs we're going to take. If I do enough independent study between now and May I can take the Potions NEWT same as you guys. I just have to get it approved by Professor McGonagall. Ron doesn't want to, afraid he'll blow himself up without supervision, but I've been really considering it. I just need someone to help me cram two years of study into the next eight months of weekends."

"I could help!" Hermione offered immediately, brightening. "I've still got my curriculum from last year, and we could even ask Snape if we can use the Potions lab on the weekends. It's supposed to be open to students, anyway, but if he says 'no' we can use the Room of Requirement."

Harry grinned, suddenly feeling much better. "That'd be great, Hermione, thanks." He glanced at his watch. "You two better go, the bell is going to ring soon and you don't want to be late. I'll see you in Transfiguration, and maybe after we can ask McGonagall about getting permission for me to study Potions independently."

Hermione agreed, and the threesome parted ways. Harry headed back to Gryffindor, his mood considerably brighter than it had been when he'd left Snape's quarters. First, he'd managed real sleep for the first time in months, then he'd managed to lie to his friends flawlessly, and now he'd gotten the assistance of the Head Girl in his pursuit of Potions, something he'd thought she'd need convincing for. Somehow, in spite of the man's hateful words that morning, Harry found his anger at Snape dissipating. He couldn't help that the man despised him any more than he could help that he despised the man in return. The war had proven that Snape was a good man, no matter what Ron said, and after last night Harry felt vindicated in believing it.